All the bars looked alike I mean, I couldn’t pick one out from another as being better or worse. So, I reverted to science.
“Amini, pick a number between one and ten.”
“Seven.”
“Are you right or left-handed?”
“Right.”
“That settles it. We go to the seventh bar on the right.”
We decided to call the bar 7R since a sign with the actual name was not all there. If you’ve watched a lot of old westerns, then you’ve seen this bar many times. Scattered tables with no cloths, mismatched chairs, and a long bar top with a foot rail and no chairs. The difference is that in western bars, you could see pretty well. The 7R was dark. I’d like to say it smelled like beer with a heavy dose of smoke, but the smoke wasn’t there, just the smell of… something.
We wandered around, listening for any interesting conversations, and settled at a table next to three traders thick into an argument. One was an Arkon from the Brown cast, as shown by his short brown crest and lizard features. The other two were humanoid, but it wasn’t certain where they were from. They all spoke a form of Arkon standard, a lower-class version of the Arkon spoken by the higher-class Reds and Blues. Our implants assisted with the translation, though we had also undergone learning chair sessions before we left the Consortium.
They were grousing about the lack of profitable cargos and the disappearance of a number of their friends’ ships. These three were trapped in Viron. Their only option was to do business with the local element of a larger cartel that most people professed to know little about or were afraid to speak of. The one thing they all agreed on was that the cartel was big, powerful, and shouldn’t be messed with.
As we were developing a growing picture of how things were working here in Viron, two shadows floated over our table and stayed there. We looked up and saw another Arkon Brown with his sharp teeth showing and a rotund little humanoid with reddish eyes boring into the two of us.
“Can we help you, gentlemen?” I asked to see if I could warm up our table, which seemed to have chilled with the arrival of the strangers.
“What you doing here?” asked the fat one as he took a seat at the table.
“We sold some cargo yesterday and have been looking for something of value to buy and sell elsewhere,” I said in my best trader character pose.
“You got much script for your cargo?” asked the Brown behind me, drool dripping from his teeth. I glanced up at him briefly then refocused on the seated man.
“Enough to buy something else if we can find it.”
“Ah, good,” the red-eyed fat man said with a chuckle. “You give us the script, and we find you good cargo with a guaranteed buyer.”
I noticed the conversation stopped at the table next to us, and out of the corner of my eye saw the other occupants in the room all staring at us. They didn’t leave. They wanted to watch. It was probably the best entertainment the place provided.
Normally, I’d see this as what it was, a setup, and try to get away. Now though, I thought this might be a chance to see what’s behind door number one, if you know what I mean. But I couldn’t give in too fast.
“What kind of cargo?” I asked with my best skeptical face. I tried hard not to flinch as Amini kicked me several times in the shin under the table as she stared daggers at me.
“Depends on what needs moving, you know, and how soon. It’s a matter of priorities. You understand.”
I did understand. He was talking about hot cargo, either stolen or prohibited. But I played the game. I looked slowly left and right as I faked concern for who might be listening or watching. I’d seen that on TV. I knew every ear in the place was straining to hear what was being said, but I had to at least look like I was being cautious.
Apparently, I was successful because the short guy then said, “We will look for construction materials and tools. They are in high demand and bring high prices.”
What he meant was that the boxes would say tools and construction material, but inside would be something else. I gave my best impression of thinking it over, then nodded my agreement.
“Good. You made wise choice.” He pulled an envelope from his multi-colored tunic and pushed it toward me across the table. “Place script in this envelope and push back to me.”
“What for?” I asked, knowing the probable answer.
“It is fee for finding your cargo and helping.”
I did as he asked. I didn’t place all our script in the envelope. Maybe half. I didn’t want to seem like a complete fool by asking how much. Besides, I wanted another beer or two. If Amini’s looks could kill, I’d be dead.
The little man picked up and felt the envelope expertly between his pudgy fingers and tossed it back on the table.
“Not enough. Cargos expensive. Many fees.”
“How much more?” I asked.
This time there was no answer from the man — just a cold stare.
Reluctantly, and appearing to kiss my next few drinks away, I produced the wad of script the little man had seen and put it all in the envelope and pushed it back to him. Feeling satisfied that he had drained the last equivalent of a cent from me, he nodded and scooped the envelope into a fold in his tunic.
“Go back your ship and wait. We contact you. What name your ship?”
“Argos. What’s your name?”
“Call me Toor. We will contact.”
“When?” I asked. But the only response from the small man was the bark of his chair as it scraped across the floor when he stood, and both he and his friend left the 7R.
“That was shrewd,” Amani said with scolding eyes.
“I thought so.” I leaned down and pulled the last remaining script in my possession from my high-topped shoe and showed it to her. “I didn’t give him all our script. A trick my grandmother taught me when roaming the seedier parts of Philadelphia. Care for another drink?”
Chapter 3
Amini and I decided to return to the Argos a few hours after meeting Toor. We withdrew our stored script and exchanged it for gold (for a fee) and headed back to the ship. That was two days ago. I was getting bored and beginning to think that Toor and his Arkon Brown buddy were just a couple of con artists. Amini thought the same as we sat with Doc in the dining area having what counted as lunch. Some sort of meat wrapped in a bun and heated. Looked like a hot dog, but tasted like, well, crap.
“What’s next o’mighty Captain?” Amini said with one eyebrow arched and a tone of scorn.
I was sure we had tapped into a smuggling ring. It was a long shot, but I continued to hope that we might be able to strike up a clandestine business partnership and get a firsthand, local look into what was happening out here. I was getting the feeling that the missing ships and the smuggling operations might be related. I was about to say something like, “Calm down, we have to let them watch us for a while,” when Harry appeared in his holographic form.
“Captain, we are being hailed by a person named Toor who says he has business with you and the Argos.”
At last, I thought. “Put him on speaker.”
“Toor, we have been waiting. What do you have for us?”
“I am transmitting coordinates to you. Meet us there in two daghs. I believe you call them days. Bring no other ships and tell no one of this. We will have a cargo and a destination for you. My client will pay handsomely.”
“Who is your client, and what does pay handsomely mean?”
“Two days, Argos. That is all you need to know. If you come late, there will be nothing.”
“Toor, I need more information.” But there was nothing more to hear. Toor was gone.
“Harry, do you have the coordinates Toor mentioned?”
“Yes, Captain. They are two days away at FTL speed. We must leave at once to assure being there on time.”
“What’s ther
e, Harry?” I asked.
“Our star charts were updated after the Arkon conflict, and the ones we have go out as far as the most outer post of the Empire, Red Sector 21. Between there and Tye is Asteroid 5. The coordinates we have been given are about a quarter of the way to Asteroid 5.”
“Can’t we just leap there and get ahead of them?” Amini asked. “That way, we could recon the area and make sure there is no trap.”
“We could, but, as you know, we’re not supposed to have such a capability in this old ship, and we don’t want to raise suspicions that we are anything other than what we appear to be. Lock in the coordinates and enter FTL when you’re ready.”
In the end, Amini was a good pilot and knew her duties. She also knew that we were trying hard to appear like a normal, opportunistic cargo ship looking for profit. She entered the destination coordinates and, with a nod from me, pressed the FTL command button on her console after counting down from three, and we were off in a slight flash.
“Are you sure these are the right coordinates, Harry?”
“Yes, Captain. You have asked that three times now.”
“I know. But we’ve been here nearly 24 hours, and there’s nobody here but us.”
“Nobody we can see,” Amini chimed in.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
“If I was a smuggler, I’d hide around where I couldn’t be seen to make sure there was only us here.”
She had a point. I wasn’t thinking enough like a smuggler. Like she said, they could be worried that we might be some kind of plant from the authorities (if there were any) waiting for them to show up and nab the bad guys in mid-transfer of illegal goods. Now that I think about it, I may have seen that on a rerun of an old TV crime show — something to do with a guy named Elliot Mess or Ness or something. It was really old. So, I sat back in my command chair on the old bridge and waited. They must have been reading my mind or something because ten minutes later, we received a call.
“Argos, this is cargo ship Dreng. We have material for you.”
I checked the sensor screens but saw nothing.
“Harry, where is this Dreng ship?”
“They just emerged from stealth off our starboard side, Captain.”
“You mean they’ve been there all the time?”
“That is possible, Captain. However, I think it more likely that they were watching from the nearby asteroid field and just now approached under stealth.”
“And you didn’t detect them approaching?” I expected a Host AI to have better skills than that.
“I did detect something approaching, Captain. However, the short distance they traveled did not give me time to make an assessment and warn you.”
“How about warn first and assess after next time!” I tried to imagine my father’s response to this goof, but I let it go.
“Yes, Captain.”
I was about to give instructions to Dreng to approach when I thought better of it.
“Dreng, who set up this meeting?”
“Toor,” was the single word reply. That was the best I could do for a security check for now. I reminded myself that if there was a next time to do this, I would have a better security question to ask.
“Dreng, this is Argos. Suggest you approach our starboard side cargo hatch for transfer.”
“Dreng is maneuvering to starboard side.”
“What’s the plan?” asked Amini.
I stared at her for a moment as I gathered my thoughts and answered, “The plan is to dock with the Dreng, take aboard the cargo, get their delivery instructions, and then proceed to the off-load area and look it over. Before we split up, we’ll place an ID beacon on her hull just in case something goes wrong. Harry, can you do that for us?”
“Yes, Captain. My bots will place the beacon as soon as the Dreng locks on.”
“Good. Also, what are the chances you can gain access to Dreng’s computers when she is alongside?”
“That will be more difficult, Captain. Much will depend on the time we have next to each other
“And after that?” Amini asked.
“After that, I hope we will have a better idea of or at least more clues on what happened to the missing ships and who is behind it. If not, we can at least keep track of the Dreng.”
A rumble and shake that resounded throughout the ship signaled the Dreng had made contact.
“Time to go meet our friends and see what they brought us. I’ll try to find out as much as I can before they depart.”
“I think this is too dangerous,” Amini said flatly. “You go ahead. I’m headed for the main bridge below with Doc, where it’s safe. Holler when you need help.”
“Chicken,” I said before I remembered that neither Amini nor the Carians knew what a chicken was or what the word meant, but I didn’t have time to explain.
Wait, did she say, “When I need help”?
Arriving in the cargo hold, I closed the access hatch behind me and donned a lightweight combat suit. I took two steps to the master control panel and pressed the green button to open the cargo bay doors. Holding on to the bulkhead railing, I waited for the space to depressurize and watched the cargo hatch of the Dreng slowly open, anxious to see what they had brought for us. I should have been more anxious. In place of pallets of cargo, there were three suited figures, each carrying a rifle different than I had seen before. I slapped at the close button on the control panel to deny them access to the ship and jumped behind one of the few supply boxes in the bay.
“Come out, Captain. You not win,” a voice said in Arkon standard.
It was a voice I recognized, Toor, that fat, little, red-eyed weasel. I also failed to hear the cargo bay door close. It hadn’t budged! I thought I hit the close button, but apparently, I missed it in my haste.
Through the headset in my helmet, I heard Amini’s voice. “Stay put, Nick. Help is about to arrive. Hide your eyes!”
What help? Amini and Doc were on the main bridge. Who could help? But I paid attention and sheltered my eyes with my hands.
The three suited figures began advancing into the bay, rifles held at the ready. Just as they passed the threshold between the two ships, there was a brilliant, intense flash of light that I could see and even feel with my face shielded by my hands and through my faceplate. I looked up briefly afterward and saw the three figures on their knees with their hands over their faceplates, rifles on the deck.
“Get out now!” Amini’s voice came over my headset.
Not having to be told twice, I jumped from my position to the cargo bay access hatch. I had enough sense not to stand in front of the hatch door when I released the locking handle. The door blew open as the pressure from the interior of the ship rushed to exit into the depressurized cargo bay. I struggled to step back inside and pulled with all my might to close the hatch and seal it. But just when I thought I had it under control, it jerked away from my grip from the pressure and slammed against the cargo bay bulkhead away from me.
I looked out at the three suited figures and saw they were starting to recover from the debilitating flash. One figure was preparing to stand, only one knee on the deck, and raised his rifle in my general direction. He fired.
I made a slim target of myself by pressing up against the interior bulkhead. I quickly realized, however, that the shooter had not yet gained all his sight, and his blast went wide of the mark, lucky for me. I stepped back out into the bay and grabbed the hatch again and pulled as hard as I could. I had a short glimpse of the three figures running to their own ship and firing back as they ran. This time the hatch door clicked shut, assisted by the weapons blast that hit the backside of it. I wanted to relax but knew I couldn’t. I pulled a safety pin from a storage rack on the interior bulkhead and inserted it into the inside lock of the hatch and took off for the main bridge and, I hoped, safety. As I ran, I
could feel the ship’s engines spooling up, followed by a nasty screech I assumed was the parting docking clamps from the Dreng.
By the time I got to the bridge, Amini had the ship moving quickly away from a sluggish Dreng and had closed the cargo bay door that I failed to activate. She turned her chair toward me with Doc looking at me from my right.
“I told you that was dangerous,” Amini admonished me with no trace of a grin. Doc nodded in agreement but, thankfully, said nothing.
“Ok, you were right. Happy now? But we had to take the chance to collect more intel.”
“And did you?” Doc asked, speaking for the first time.
“Yes and no. We didn’t get what I wanted, which was a way inside the smuggling group, but we did confirm that part of their operation is on Tye and that they’re apparently interested in collecting ships.”
“How is collecting ships important?’ Amini asked.
“It tells us that in addition to stealing cargos, they are interested in expanding their fleet. That likely means they plan to grow and are not just a small-time operation. They’re also well-armed personally. I haven’t seen rifles like that before, and their suits were a version of battle armor. By the way, how did you come up with that flash?”
“That was me, Captain.” Harry appeared in his holographic form. “I pushed power into the variable diode lighting of the cargo bay. We will have to replace a few of the lights, but it had the right effect.”
“It was brilliant, Harry. No pun intended. My only regret is that the Dreng got away. How about the beacon and her computer core?”
“While the Dreng was docked with us, I had one of my bots place an ID beacon on her hull just as you directed. Thanks to you, we can easily identify her at a distance if we encounter her again. The beacon can also be used as a locator in relatively short distances outside visual range. I was also able to use a small bot to tap into some of her computer core. Not all of it, but enough to be interesting. Among other things, I know she was not always the Dreng. Originally she was the cargo ship Lotana.”
Crucible: Records of the Argos Page 3
